> Folk Music > Songs > MacFarlan o’ the Sprotts

MacFarlan o’ the Sprotts

[ Roud 6314 ; G/D 6:1221 ; Ballad Index GrD61221 ; words George Bruce Thomson, music Willie Kemp]

Charlie Allan sang Sprotts o’ Burnieboosie on his 1979 cassette of bothy ballads, Blue Grey Coo.

Jock Duncan sang Macfarlan o the Sprotts on his 1996 Springthyme album Ye Shine Whar Ye Stan!. Peter Shepheard noted:

This is by George Thomson, one time trainee chemist in New Deer who was a prolific composer of songs. He clearly loved to make full use of the local broad Scots vocabulary—the Doric. According to Jock’s mother he sometimes tested his songs out on the customers for approval. Jock is sure that most of his songs were lost or given away. The song was included in one of Gavin Greig’s weekly Buchan Observer articles in 1910 shortly after it was written (FSNE 145). Jock first heard Macfarlan o the Sprotts on record by Willie Kemp and later heard it sung by him on stage in 1947 in New Deer.

Susie Allan sang McFarlane (o the Sprots) on her 1998 album Tipsy Courting. She noted:

A cautionary tale that shows off the descriptive prowess of the Doric.

Eric Simpson of Rosehearty sang MacFarlan o’ the Sprotts on the 1999 Sleepytown anthology The Bothy Songs and Ballads of North East Scotland Vol. 1.

Lyrics

Jock Duncan sings Macfarlan o the Sprotts

O it’s O that I be tyraneesed as I this file hae been,
I’d raither run fae here tae Birse wi peas in baith ma sheen,
I’d raither dee for wint o breath than tae pine for wint o love,
An it’s aa because Macfarlan mairried Suzie.
Noo Suzie’s cankered faither and me could never gree,
An ilkae time I gaed ower the gate he’d hun his dog at me,
So I sent ma freen Macfarlan doun tae see fit he could dee,
Macfarlan o the Sprotts o Birnieboosie.

I dinna like Macfarlan, I’m safe eneuch tae state,
His lugs wad cast a shadae ower a sax fit gate;
He’s saft as ony gorblin an sliddery as a skate,
Macfarlan o the Sprotts o Birnieboosie.

O Macfarlan spak nae word for me but plenty for himsel,
He reesed the lassie’s barley scones, her kebbuck and her kale,
Her fadder cried out, “Sprottie, ye should try yer luck yersel,
Tae Macfarlan o the Sprotts o Birnieboosie.”
Noo Macfarlan is the grimmest chiel in aa the country roun,
They buy his fotygraph tae fleg the rottans fae the toun,
Well he kittled up his spunk at this and spiered gin she’d come doun,
Tae be mistress o the Sprotts o Birnieboosie.

O I dinna like Macfarlan, I’m safe eneuch tae state,
His lugs wad cast a shadae ower a sax fit gate;
He’s saft as ony gorblin an sliddery as a skate,
Macfarlan o the Sprotts o Birnieboosie.

He said that he wis able baith tae play at cowp-the-ladle,
Sittin on a trykle bow and caw the churn forbye,
Anither o his winners wis that sawdust mixed wi shunners,
Wis spice for feedin hens at Birnieboosie.
An educated ostrich fae the wilds o Timbuctoo,
He hid for scrappin up his neeps and he hidnae them tae pu,
O ye niver heard the like o that come oot o ony mou,
But Macfarlan o the Sprotts o Birnieboosie.

O I dinna like Macfarlan, it’s awfa but it’s true,
A pewter speen wis tint in Jock Macfarlan’s mou,
He couldna weel be grimmer, sups the brose wi the skimmer,
Macfarlan o the Sprotts o Birnieboosie.

O the dirl o the teethache’s nae particularly sweet,
But love’s the only thing on earth that ever gar’d me greet.
It’s like kittlie chilblains on yer hert instead o on yer feet,
An it’s aggravated wi the sicht o Suzie.
Noo freens and kind philosophers ye’ve heard fat me befell,
Never lippen tae the middle man but dae the wark yersel,
For I’ve bet my winter sarket, ye’re a day ahin the mairket,
Like fan I sent Jock Macfarlan doun tae Suzie.

O I dinna like Macfarlan, I’m fairly aff o Jock,
I dinna like Macfarlan nor Macfarlan’s fowk,
His Suzie’s been nae turtle for a tyangs or the spurkle, [i.e. coal tongs; porridge stick
Doun ower the heid o Jock o Birnieboosie.

Susie Allan sings McFarlane (o the Sprots o Burnieboosie)

Afore that I be tyraneesed as I this while hae been
I’d raither rin frae here tae Birse wi peas in baith my sheen.
I’d raither dee for wint o breath than pine for wint o love
And it’s aa because McFarlane married Susie.
Noo Susie’s kankered faither wi mine could niver ‘gree
And I fan I’d gang ower that gate he’d hing his dog at me,
So I sent my friend McFarlane doon tae see fit he could dee,
McFarlane o the Sprots of Burnieboosie.

I dinna like McFarlane, I’m safe enough tae state,
His lug wad cast a shadow ower a sax fit gate.
He’s saft as ony gorblin and sliddery as a skate,
McFarlane o the Sprots o Burnieboosie.

McFarlane spak nae wird for me but plenty for himsel,
He reesed the lassie’s barley scones, her kibbuck and her kail,
Till her faither cried oot, “Sprotty man, Ye should try yer luck yersel!”
Tae McFarlane o the Sprots o Burnieboosie.
Though McFarlane is the grimmest chiel For twenty mile aroon,
Though they buy his photograph tae fleg the rattens frae the toon,
He kittled up his spunk at this and speered gin she’d come doon
Tae be mistress o the Sprots o Burnieboosie.

I dinna like McFarlane, I tell ye it’s a fact,
He’s a nose for splittin hailstanes and a humphy back.
He’s legs like gutteperka, ilka step his knees gang knack,
McFarlane o the Sprots o Burnieboosie.

He said he wis baith able tae play at coup the ladle
Wi a ledder ower a treacle cask and ca the chum forbye.
Anither o his winners wis sawdust mixed wi cinners
Was the spice for mettin hens at Burnieboosie.
An educated ostrich frae the zoo at Timbuctoo
He had for scrattin up his neeps so he hidna them tae pu’.
I niver heard the like o that come oot o ony mou’
But McFarlane o the Sprots o Burnieboosie.

I dinna like McFarlane, it’s awfu but it’s true,
A pewter speen wis tint in Jock McFarlane’s mou’.
He couldna weel be grimmer, taks his porridge wi a skimmer,
McFarlane o the Sprots o Burnieboosie.

O a dirl o the teethache’s nae particularly sweet
But love’s the only pain on earth ever gart me greet.
It’s just like kittley chilblains roon yer heart instead o yer feet,
They were aggravated by the sicht o Susie.
Noo friends and kind philosophers ye’ve heard what me befell,
Never lippen tae the middleman but dae yer work yersel.
Or I’ll bet my hindmost sark that ye’re a day ahint the market,
As was I when I sent McFarlane roon tae Susie.

I dinna like McFarlane, I’m fairly aff o Jock,
I dinna like McFarlane, nor McFarlane’s folk.
May Susie be nae turtle but bring the tangs or spurtle
Doon ower the heid o Jock o Burnieboosie.